"What are we doing Blake?" I whisper in between sharp breaths as my eyes go to find his own, but then my breath gets hitched when i see laboured dark ones instead of the usual brown they always are.
"Something we should have done a long time ago," h...
"All I needed was the love You gave All I needed for Another day And all I ever knew Only you..."
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“Here, they won’t find us here,” Blake speaks up in a whisper that is almost cut off with his incessant intakes of breath.
If it was another person telling me to take a turn with him into a dark alley, that very much looks like an abyss that could lead me to hell, I’d keep on running on my own accord. But this is Blake.
The boy that I’ve known since forever ago. The very same that has been my devastatingly hot best friend for as long as I can remember.
So I don’t even think twice about it when we run to the direction that he pointed us to, tucking ourselves between the two walls that the small pathway consists of. When I notice just how close we are, I can’t help but laugh at us.
“Shh. Do you want us to get caught today?” he asks in a hushed almost amused voice. He never gets to act like the adult when it comes to stuff like this, so this definitely is a first.
Nonetheless I supress my laughter by pursing my lips together but still hold a lingering smile on my face.
We just stare at each other, something we usually do without so much as reluctance or shame, and up to date, I swear I’ve never been able to get the secret behind my capability to hold Blake’s gaze like this.
This up close, I can notice all the details of his face, even though I’m craning my neck upwards due to his outstanding height. He has a vibrant blue to his eyes, that I’m fully aware of how he uses to his advantage when it comes to girls; they can weaken any soul.
Then there’s that sharp jaw of his, and that pretty nose he has, then also that little mole he has right after the left eye.
That one I noticed from the first time I saw him.
“Where did you get a tattoo like that?” I ask him when I see it, my eyes lingering on it even when he turns to look at me wholly. Right after his left eye lay a perfectly round small black dot, and I just figured from how round and perfect it is that it must be a tattoo. But who on earth gives a nine-year old a tattoo?
Blake laughs at me when he realises what am talking about, then out of the blue, he lightly pinches my cheek, “You’re cute,” is all he says, making me look at him funny. Where did that even come from?
I only ever got to know that it wasn’t a tattoo a year later, when I’d gotten so bothered by it that I’d asked my mum. She told me it was a mole, and I felt so stupid.
Blake and I had an argument about it, but by then we’d gotten too close to make it last.
“You’re thinking about the mole tattoo, aren’t you?” he announces in the still quiet air of the night, making me smile at the memory we both remember so well.
